Fic request set in the "Market Price" universe because I LOVE IT SO MUCH. So we know Claire is stubborn as it is, but I see sick Claire as a force to be reckoned with LOL! Would love a little ficlet of her coming down with a bad case of the flu, cue Jamie having to convince her to just STOP and rest until she's eventually just a pathetic blob too weak to get out of bed. D: Lots of Jamie pampering her? :D
Thank you for the prompt, I hope you like this, love!
Market Price, companion piece.
Sick Day
Also read on: AO3
“Do I have to tie ye to the bed then, Fraser?”
Claire’s eyes narrow as she looks at her (new) husband across the bed. “It isn’t that bad, Jamie. I’ll get Tamiflu and be on my way.”
“I’m no’ the doctor here, but doesn’t that only work if ye start taking it right when ye notice the symptoms?”
“You definitely aren’t the doctor,” she retorts, not answering the question, but standing too quickly and immediately sinking back down on the end of the bed when she stumbles.
That’s enough for Jamie to get up and kneel in front of her, taking her shoes out of her hands. “Ye’re no’ going.”
She groans and bats at his arm. “I have surgeries today,” she weakly protests, using him now to brace herself as she stands and lets out a breath, moving past him to get another pair of shoes, looking a little smug about seeming to outsmart him.
“Oh, and do ye think those people may no’ be grateful to not have a doctor breathing the flu at them?” Jamie reaches out, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Ye’re burnin’ up, Claire. Call it.”
There’s another groan, more groaning than talking, really, and she drops the shoes. “Fine. One day. And stop trying to talk like a doctor.”
“We’ll re-assess in the morning. I’m staying wi’ ye today. I’ll watch more Grey’s for my education.”
“God, Jamie, I don’t need a babysitter, I’m perfectly capable of--”
“Where are ye going wi’ that succulent?” he asks, raising his eyebrow and nodding at the cylindrical vase in her hand.
Claire looks at it, then the water bottle right next to where the plant usually sits, same approximate shape, before looking at Jamie. “Don’t read into that, it means nothing.”
“What it means is you’re no’ thinking straight. No’ really the best of mindsets for a surgeon, Sassenach.” He moves to her and gently takes the vase from her, putting it down and kissing her forehead. “Ye take today and I’ll allow a reassessment tomorrow. Agreed?”
She thinks about it for a moment, notes the way her muscles ache, the way she feels uncomfortably hot and all that sounds nice is melting into bed. “Agreed,” she gives in, pulling her shirt over her head now and tossing it in a chair before face-planting into the bed with a long groan. “I don’t want to be ill.”
Gently, Jamie rolls her and carefully tugs her skirt off before removing her bra and slipping his own discarded sleep shirt over her head. “I know it, mo chridhe,” he murmurs. “But I’ll take good care of ye, promise.”
“Will you rub my head?” she asks giving him the most pathetic look she can muster.
“Aye. I’ll rub yer hard head. After I get back from picking ye up some proper drugs.” He knows she already pushed herself yesterday, too far gone for a prescription. “Call the hospital and make sure ye tell the Chief of Surgery I’ll tell him to go fuck himself this time if he gives ye any grief.” The man’s a hardass, Jamie dislikes him immensely, and if he had his way, Claire would have Marylebone’s job.
“I have no problem telling Clarence that myself, you know,” Claire mutters, reaching for her phone.
